It's been one of those mornings. All was going fine until it came time to leave to go to work. I couldn't find my keys. Ended up getting here late, but I still didn't find them. Luckily hubby was there to lock the door behind me. When I got to work I remembered that yesterday morning it was raining, and I couldn't find my umbrella, so I stopped to buy one on the way to the train. When I opened it, I slipped its wrappings into my pocket. This morning, I tossed it into the garbage. Bet my keys were in there.
Been back at work now since Tuesday. Such a busy time. Came back to find five new intakes in files on my desk. I've been touching base with all my clients and trying my best to stay caught up. That's why I worked so hard before my vacation. I knew what would be waiting on my return. Today I must do some discharges before my caseload gets too out of control, so I am...
...hoping you all enjoy the poem today. Ella Wheeler Wilcox is one of my favorites.
When Christmas bells are swinging above the fields of snow,
We hear sweet voices ringing from lands of long ago.
And etched on vacant places,
Are half forgotten faces
Of friends we used to cherish, and loves we used to know –
When Christmas bells are swinging above the fields of snow.
Uprising from the ocean of the present surging near,
We see, with strange emotion that is not free from fear,
That continent Elysian
Long vanished from our vision,
Youth’s lovely lost Atlantis, so mourned for and so dear,
Uprising from the ocean of the present surging near.
When gloomy gray Decembers are roused to Christmas mirth,
The dullest life remembers there once was joy on earth,
And draws from youth’s recesses
Some memory it possesses,
And, gazing through the lens of time, exaggerates its worth,
When gloomy gray December is roused to Christmas mirth.
When hanging up the holly or mistletoe, I wis
Each heart recalls some folly that lit the world with bliss.
Not all the seers and sages
With wisdom of the ages
Can give the mind such pleasure as memories of that kiss
When hanging up the holly or mistletoe, I wis.
For life was made for loving, and love alone repays,
As passing years are proving for all of Time’s sad ways.
There lies a sting in pleasure,
And fame gives shallow measure,
And wealth is but a phantom that mocks the restless days,
For life was made for loving, and only loving pays.
When Christmas bells are pelting the air with silver chimes,
And silences are melting to soft, melodious rhymes,
Let Love, the worlds beginning,
End fear and hate and sinning;
Let Love, the God Eternal, be worshipped in all climes
When Christmas bells are pelting the air with silver chimes.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox